Instead of keeping to the roads, Sniper decided to drive a little deeper into the woods, the camper bouncing over the uneven terrain as it weaved through the trees. He parked quite a distance in, headed to the back, and opened another cabinet and pulled out a colored tarp. It was stored in a vacuum bag and started to puff up when he opened it. It was a camouflaged patterned vehicle cover, and he started to drape it loosely over the camper.

“Will this really work?”

“Fools drones pretty good, and I think we’ve got a good distance. But I’ll keep an ear out.” He checked his watch again. It was approaching 7 am.

Doc automatically checked his watch as well but its hands were still frozen at 8:24. He tapped the cracked glass, sighed and removed the watch from his left wrist. He gazed at it for a few seconds before exhaling and tossing it to the ground.

Sniper blinked and bent down to pick it up. “What are you doing?”

“It’s broken.” He shrugged, a melancholic look in his eyes. He turned to climb back into the back of the camper, between panels of the tarp. After a few seconds, the yellow eyed man looked down at the broken watch. The white face, silver hands and numbers, and the worn grey leather watchband had all the hallmarks of a well-loved accessory. But the ease that Doc let it go bothered him. 

He entered the back of the camper, tugging the panels closed and shut the doors. Doc was sitting on the makeshift bed, hands in his lap. He stifled a yawn as Sniper opened a cabinet and searched for a small tool kit. He sat down onto the gun locker and set the watch and tool kit onto the mini fridge. He frowned at the lilac eyed man.

“Why doncha take a nap? I’ll keep watch. Or we can switch.”

The Doctor also frowned. “Id rather not.” He pulled out his pocket notebook and started writing notes. “Unfortunately, neither of us should fall asleep yet.”

“Why’s that?”

Doc pushed his glasses up. “The first 24 hours following the injection are the most crucial. I need to monitor you at least until after 6 pm. Just to be sure.”

Sniper crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. “Is…is there something that can go wrong?”

“Well, best case scenario…nothing happens. You go on as you have been, except for your new enhanced abilities.”

The gunman paused, glancing down at the floor. “Ok…but if something goes wrong…what’s the best case scenario…?”

A pained look flicked across his face. “Well…if you fall asleep, and something goes wrong…you slip into a coma and never wake up. That’s best case if your body rejects the drug at this point.”

“And the worst?”

The Doctor bit his lip and looked at his notebook. Then, “You…lose your mind.”

Sniper’s face took on a very worried look. “I’ll go crazy?”

“Essentially.” He tilted his head slightly. “But you feel perfectly fine?”

“Yeah. Othern’ being tired and still taking this all in…I feel fine.”

“Sehr gut. If your sanity was going to snap, it would have during our escape. I’m very certain you’ll be fine at this point. But I fear something going wrong physically if you sleep.” He sighed. “Though that means you’ll have to remain awake for more than 24 hours essentially.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. I’m used to all-nighters. So if that’s what I gotta do, so be it.” He shrugged. “You’re the doctor.”

“Jawohl, I suppose.”

He turned his attention to the watch, and Doc cocked his head. 

“What are you doing? I threw that away.”

“Was it a gift?” he asked, looking at the watch closely. He removed his own and set it aside.

Doc blinked. He cast his gaze aside, thinking. “I suppose it was. I’ve had it for about 20 years.”

“Then it’s a waste to throw away a gift.”

He didn’t answer. The look in his eyes was slightly sad. 

“Where’d you get it?” tried Sniper. He started to loosen the small pins on the side holding the band to the watch. Focused on the task, he didn’t look up. 

He thought about it, as if he hadn’t given it a single thought in a long time. “…I believe I got it when I finished medical school.”

“When you graduated?”

“Yes. I was about 20.”

He glanced up this time. “Huh? How long were you in med school??”

“I was in an accelerated program when I was in high school. Started med school when I was 16, 17 years old.”

The gunman let out a low, impressed whistle, hands still working. “Dang.”

A glimmer of pride crept into Doc’s eyes as he smiled faintly, the gaze in his eyes reminiscing. “I was rather clever in my youth, I suppose.”

“All right, did your parents give it to you then?”

“Oh. Heavens no. My parents were long dead by then.” It was the airy and nonchalant way he dropped such bombshells that bothered Sniper the most. As if Doc was talking about a life that wasn’t his. “It was a present from one of my professors. When I got my medical license.”

"What were you going for? When you finished, I mean. Like general practitioner?

"Pediatrics, actually. I was told I had the perfect beside manner and demeanor for working with children."

“How long were you practicing?” He’d finally freed one of the bands from one side of the watch, and he deposited the screw and pin into the tool kit for safe keeping. The second one also came off quickly.

“…Never got to. When I was supposed to start…my license was revoked.”

Another bombshell, but this one made Sniper’s hands freeze. He snapped up to look at him. The melancholy look in those lilac eyes as they gazed at the floor hit his chest like a haymaker.

“What??”

Doc shrugged, his hands in the air before they fluttered back down to his lap and loosely clasped together. “First day I was supposed to start, I was told my license was invalid.” He inhaled slowly, then exhaled. “Immediately after, Surgeon picked me up…and I had to move to Warstein.”

He looked up, a sad smile on his lips. “…and I never left. For 20 years.”

They stared at one another, Sniper’s eyes darting from the floor to Doc, then narrowing in uncertainty. He settled on watching him with pity in the canary colored eyes. Doc broke the stare. He didn’t like the look of it.

“I…I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I scarcely can remember life before I moved to the Mansion. So, in the end, that watch just belongs to a life that never happened.”

But you never threw it away, thought Sniper as he turned back to his work. Chest aching, his hands started to move again, slowly. He moved onto his own watch and removed the bands from his watch face. And you kept wearing it. Every day. 

The single worn hole of the clasp said it all. Second from the last.

“I’m sorry. That was…far too much information.” Doc hunched over slightly, leaning over his knees. Shut his eyes and sighed again. “I don’t mean to burden you with such trivial details about my past.”

“Don’t. It’s not trivial. It’s your life.” It was hard for him to keep his voice from shaking. “And it was something important.”

Doc didn’t answer. He felt he should feel sad, but the only feeling he had, thinking about the day he lost his license, the day he climbed into that limo with Surgeon, the day he moved into the Mansion, was emptiness. A waste of time he could do nothing about.

“Here.” Sniper’s voice seemed far away for a moment, and it took a second before he looked up. A few inches from his face was Sniper’s watch, now attached to the worn grey leather watchbands he used to wear. He blinked in surprise.

“What???”

“Since you value practicality, take this one.” When Doc took the watch gently in his hands, Sniper turned back to the broken one he’d started to attach to his own leather watchband, a well-loved, warm brown band

“But…I can’t. It’s yours,” Doc protested, clutching it.

Sniper leaned forward and took it back, taking Doc’s left wrist and slipping the watch on. The bigger watch accounted for a different fit, and he guided the clasp into a new hole. Doc merely watched him with troubled eyes. Once he finished, the gunman put the newly assembled other watch back onto his own left wrist, using his teeth to help cinch it back. Tapped the broken face with the tip of his finger. He also had to use a new hole.

“Jeez, Doc, your wrists are tiny,” he chuckled. 

“I can’t take this.”

“Sure you can. Besides, it’ll be better for you to have accurate time.” His eyes locked with Doc’s, softening. “C’mon. Consider it a gift.”

Speechless, the Doctor merely looked back down at the watch, the glossy black face reflecting his own. Sniper had oriented it the way he’d noticed how Doc had it: the face on the underside of his wrist. 

“I can’t give you back your medical license, but maybe I can give you something else.” Sniper stood up, and put the tool kit away as he made his way up to the front seat and settled down.

Doc sat on the bedroll, fingers gently atop the watch face. He didn’t know how long he’d sat there.

He didn’t want to tap the face to find out.